Chapter 2 - THE BACK DOOR
“Open up.”
The door wasn’t locked, but Jake wanted me to move it for him.
I slid the tablet beneath a folded towel and pulled the door open.
He looked at my face.
For half a second, something like concern passed through his expression.
Then he looked at the towel.
“You’re getting that everywhere.”
“I’m cleaning it.”
“What were you doing?”
“Trying to stop the bleeding.”
He glanced past me.
My toothbrush. The sink. The cabinet.
Nothing worth noticing.
“You fell,” he said.
I stared at him.
“You got dizzy and fell against the counter. That’s what happened.”
He wasn’t suggesting a story.
He was assigning one.
Downstairs, Linda called his name.
“The chicken’s still sitting out.”
He turned toward the stairs.
“Get yourself together.”
I waited until his footsteps faded, then checked the tablet.
My sister had answered.
ON MY WAY. GO NEXT DOOR IF YOU CAN.
A second message followed.
I’M CALLING FOR HELP.
I wanted to tell her not to.
Old fear rose instantly: neighbors watching, Jake furious, Linda saying I had embarrassed the family.
Then I watched the clip again.
My own voice pleading.
His mother blocking the door.
I left my sister’s message unanswered.
For once, someone else could make the call I was too frightened to make.
The camera access request came from Jake’s email address.
He had probably noticed a notification on my phone.
I denied it.
Then I downloaded the recording to the tablet.
Below the video, the app showed the storage card was still active inside the camera.
A second copy.
I would need it.
But not more than I needed to leave.
I walked downstairs slowly.
Linda stood at the stove, stirring sauce as though she hadn’t watched anything unusual happen.
Jake was in the living room with Don.
My phone sat beside Linda’s elbow.
“I need the dog’s towel,” I said. “He threw up by the back door.”
She made a disgusted sound.
“Of course he did.”
Our dog had died three weeks earlier.
Linda had barely noticed.
I moved into the laundry room, opened the back door, and stepped outside in my socks.
Cold concrete pressed against my feet.
Across the narrow yard, my neighbor’s kitchen light was on.
I knocked against her window.
Mrs. Alvarez looked up.
Her expression changed before I said a word.
She opened the side door and pulled me inside.
“Sit down, honey.”
Behind me, our back door slammed.
Jake’s voice carried across the yard.
“Rachel?”
Mrs. Alvarez locked her door.
A siren sounded somewhere nearby.
My knees finally gave way.
Through the glass, I watched Jake turn toward the street.
May you like
He didn’t look afraid of what he had done.
He looked afraid of who had heard.
